The Creamy Mustache
by magicalhat
Summary: Snow tries enjoying some hot chocolate with her daughter, but can only think about all that her little girl has missed. One-shot. Fluffy meets angsty. Just my charming family feels really. Slightly au, but spoilers to the first half of season 02.


Snow turned her head at the familiar ring of bells, a smile rapidly finding its way to her face. Emma walked in to Granny's with her arm around her son, the two of them giggling – probably talking about some new operation. Henry had said that his grandpa had done a fairly decent job, but that Emma was his ultimate operation partner – the bad cop and the good cop. Emma had been surprised when Henry said that she was actually the _good _cop, but Snow had only laughed in agreement – which apparently confused Emma even further. "Hey" her daughter said, taking the seat across from her. Henry was already rushing to the counter, apparently too desperate for a hot chocolate to wait at the table. He was back in a second, Red by his side carrying a platter with three fuming hot chocolates in it – cream and cinnamon in all of them. Of course Red would be ahead of them. If anyone asked she would have said it was 'the wolf thing', as she called it, but Snow knew better. Red was just that caring, even if she barely knew it herself. She would have been the perfect 'cool aunt' for Emma. Red would have definitely taught her the 'Enchanted Forest Survival Guide', whether Emma had any need for it or not, complete with all the hiding and tracking. Telling Ogres from Giants would have been child's play.

Red placed the three cups of hot chocolate in front of their respective owners, and was just about to leave them. Snow grabbed her wrist before she could. They exchanged a look, just the one look – but one look is more than enough when you know someone as well as they knew each other. Red smiled, pulling up a chair and sitting between Snow and the recently accommodated Henry, already furiously sipping at his chocolate. Emma smiled as Red joined them, and took a long sip at her creamy hot chocolate. She was watching Henry talking merrily to Red, too busy watching her own son to notice her mother's stare. Emma lowered her cup, placing it at the table. And so Snow saw it, and for a moment she almost reached out. Emma had a creamy mustache above her lips, complete with the little touches of cinnamon. Snow almost had a mother's natural reaction. To clean out the cream with her own thumb, perhaps even give her a scouring look for being so careless. But she couldn't, could she?

Emma was not a little girl. She had not been _her_ little girl since those few precious seconds when Snow held the tiny pinkish baby on her arms, and tears of happiness and sadness had a ran down her face. Of course Emma had been a little girl for longer than a few seconds. Snow wondered how many times her girl had gotten a creamy mustache over her lips. She could not guess, but she could tell how many times someone had reached out and cleaned it for her. It wasn't as if Snow didn't know how it felt. She had grown up without her own mother, and missed countless experiences because of it. But it was different. She had her father, and, above all, she did not grow up believing her mother had abandoned her. All Snow had wanted was to give that pinkish baby her best chance, but the baby had grown up to become a little girl and then a big girl and then a woman – and Snow had missed all of it. And now she looked at her, the woman that was her daughter, and she could not use her thumb to remove her baby's creamy mustache. And Red, Red who had talked for months about what she would teach little Emma, Red never got to be her cool aunt, and Emma never got to _have_ a cool aunt. And Charming, Charming who had always thought they would have a boy and yet had been ecstatic with the prospect of their little girl. "If she grows up to be half the fighter her mother is, then we can still use the wooden swords. It may also help keeping all the young princes from having _ideas_."

Emma had missed it all. The cool aunt, the wooden swords, the wool slippers skillfully knitted by Granny, the cradle Grumpy had built himself – oh, Grumpy would have spoiled her so much.

Snow could feel her eyes becoming slightly watery, but she held it back. Emma was still watching Henry, but she had taken a second sip that had made her creamy mustache even bigger. Red and Henry still chatted, failing to notice Emma's mustache or Snow's watery eyes. The bell tinkled again, but Snow did not turn to look this time. Yet soon a chair had been dragged to her side, and Charming was brushing his shoulder against hers, staring at her eyes and demanding a peck on the lips. Not that he had asked for it with words, but the way he looked at her would always be demanding of a peck on the lips at very least. And a little peck she gave him – it was daylight on a family dinner after all. She would have asked how he knew she was there, since they had not exactly arranged a meeting. But she knew what his answer would be. "I will always find you."

Emma noticed him, and turned to smile a greeting. So did Red and Henry, but they had not yet seem Emma's little creamy mustache. But of course Charming did, although he said nothing. Yet Snow was sure he had noticed, for the look in his eyes told that his thoughts were now close to hers. Her girl's daddy regretted it too, and the wooden swords had never been used. And so Snow realized. She wasn't alone. He felt it. And Red, and Granny, and Grumpy… She was not just _her_ little girl. She was theirs. Their little pinkish baby, their little princess, their hope - their savior. Had she ever really lost her? Her little girl was there now. She was her parents' daughter, and she _had_ found them.

Her family was together now, and her baby had a baby of her own. Something good had come out of all the sadness. Red could be the cool aunt, for no doubt Henry would want to hear all about tracking and telling giants from ogres – although he probably could tell the difference already. Charming had already given him his very own wooden sword. Snow would probably have to give him bow lessons later… Charming thought himself to be very good, but Snow knew that he lacked some grace and that she would be a more fit teacher.

Snow had made up her mind. She and her family would have their happy ending. They would always find each other, and nothing could keep them apart – not for long anyway. Not curses, not queens, not captains, not kings. The past, whatever had been lost, it no longer mattered. She would cease the present. She would snuggle by her husband's side, she would teach her grandson archery, she would even pet wolf Red in the head. And there was one more thing she needed to do.

Snow moved to the tip of her chair, and slowly raised her arm. Her hand found her daughter's face, and her thumb made a sure movement that cleared all the cream that had been above her lips. Snow's hand was already down when Emma realized what had happened. Her eyes widened, she lipped her slightly creamy lips nervously. Red and Henry had stopped with their chatting, and along with Charming they were all looking at Emma. Emma looked down, staring at her lap as her cheeks turned pink - the same pinkish color that she had once been. And Charming, and Red, and Henry – they all looked at Snow. And they smiled. Henry looked pleasantly amused, while Charming and Red were almost getting watery eyes of their own. Snow chuckled nervous, but happy - happier than she had been for so long. And Charming squeezed her shoulder, and Red cleaned the watery corner of her eye. And suddenly the three of them were chuckling merrily.

Emma started raising her head at last, and her eyes met Snow's. The smile in Snow's face was just ridiculous, like only a mother's smile could be. Then Emma smiled. First shyly, then brightly, then giggly. Until all the chuckling stopped, and they were all just sitting around the same table. Drinking cocoa, talking, smiling. Being a family.


End file.
